What's A Normal Birthday Anyway? Clint Aged 16
by weemcg33
Summary: Next instalment of Clint's birthday. The week before Clint's sixteenth the teen is involved in an accident after saving one of the neighbour's kids. With his leg in a cast and Phil in full mother hen mode, will Clint finally realise he has become someone else' hero? Rated T for safety.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I still own nothing :(

Author's Note: Once again I'd like to apologise for how long it's taken for this story to be posted. Real life sucks! That's all I have to say on the matter.

Once again this is a multi chapter which I'm hoping you'll all be super excited about lol it will be seven chapters total and also have a couple of one shots to come out of this.

As always a huge thanks to DevinBourdain my totally awesome beta who is constantly pushing me every time I write. Thank you!

Summary: The week before Clint's sixteenth the teen is involved in an accident after saving one of the neighbour's kids. With his leg in a cast and Phil in full on mother hen mode, will Clint finally realise he has become someone else' hero?

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Heroes are selfless people who perform extraordinary acts. The mark of heroes is not necessarily the result of their action, but what they are willing to do for others and for their chosen cause. Even if they fail, their determination lives on for others to follow. The glory lies not in the achievement, but in the sacrifice."  
― Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono

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Phil Coulson sat hunched over in the uncomfortable plastic chairs outside the surgery, his elbows resting on his knees and hands covering his face. He couldn't believe he was sitting here again, staring at the double doors waiting for any word on how his kid was doing. It seemed he was destined to inhabit hospital chairs. He wished it would end. The all-encompassing fear he felt as he waited for word was surely going to drive him to an early grave.

The agent would never forget the feeling of helplessness that had consumed him the moment he stepped outside the house after hearing one of the younger kids on the street screaming. That sound alone had spurred him into action; his first thought was of Clint. His boy was always putting himself in the line of fire no matter what it was. Sprinting out the front door, Phil came to a sudden halt at the sight of his boy lying motionless on the ground, a car sitting half up on the pavement with the front end bashed from where it connected with a street lamp. His eyes widened, chest tightening in panic as he quickly took in the scene in front of him. One of the boys from two doors down, David, he was sure was the kid's name, was sitting on the grass with his legs pulled up to his chest, crying uncontrollably. Phil saw blood from numerous cuts on the boy's knees and elbows. The youngster seemed otherwise okay.

Coulson snapped out of his daze and hurried over to Clint. Dropping down on to his knees at the kid's side, he reached out with a shaking hand to feel for a pulse. He sighed in relief when he felt it, strong and steady beneath his fingers. Phil mentally kicked himself, needing to get control of his erratic emotions; his son needed him and he'd be damned if he let him down. He quickly scanned the fifteen year old with his eyes and hands, checking for obvious signs of injury. He'd already noticed the cut just above Barton's eyebrow, which was bleeding quite heavily although the agent knew head wounds tended to look worse than they were.

A few of his neighbours finally arrived to help. One of the mothers told Phil she was calling an ambulance as well as the police. Coulson simply nodded, his mind numb to the devastation before him, he hadn't even thought about calling Nick or Sam. He just needed his boy to be alright. An ambulance would more than likely arrive quicker anyway.

Grasping his son's face gently in both hands, Phil rested his forehead against Clint's. "Clint, can you hear me?" he called softly, hoping for a reaction to the sound of his voice. He was disappointed when there was none.

A young brunette crouched on the opposite side, her eyes full of concern. "What's his name?" she asked, while checking the boy over.

Phil stared blankly at the woman, his mind taking a little longer than normal to process the simple question. "What?"

The woman gave him a sad, understanding smile. "I'm a nurse at University State Hospital, I also live down the road. Are you his dad?"

Coulson nodded, staring down at his boy. Gripping the youngster's hand tightly in his own, hoping that he'd feel a squeeze, something to prove to him that Barton would be fine. "His name is Clint," he told her after a pause, suddenly remembering that the young woman had asked him a question.

She smiled gently at him, turning her attention back to the boy. "Clint? Clint can you hear me?" she called to the boy, checking his pupils for a response. Her brow furrowed in concern at the lack of movement.

The teen didn't so much as twitch at her checks, making Phil worry even more. He squeezed Clint's hand again, hoping to see those blue eyes staring back at him with a mischievous look, telling the older man that he was fine. A quiet Barton was a reason to worry these days. For how quiet the kid had been in the beginning, he was like a totally different teenager now. His constant need to fill the silence reminded Phil of young Tommy, his nephew. It wasn't surprising with the amount those two spoke on the phone. He was pulled from his thoughts when one of the moms started shouting, her voice a mixture of anger and concern.

Turning his attention away from Clint, the agent felt rage building up inside him, like molten lava surging through his veins. It searched for release as he watched a man in his early twenties stagger out of the car clutching his bleeding head. The man shoved the young mother in front of him out of his way, attempting to walk away from the scene. Coulson felt a soft hand touching his arm and he whirled around looking down at the teen. Clint's eyes were still closed though. Instead he found the young woman staring at him with a knowing look, it was the same look Molly would give him when he was about to do something stupid. She gave him a small nod, telling him she had Clint covered while he did what he had to do before continuing her checks as they waited for the ambulance to arrive.

Coulson gripped Barton's hand once more before standing. He walked over to the young man who had caused all of this, the one who could have taken Clint away from him. Once he got close enough and smelled the stench of alcohol on the man's breath, Phil lost it. Grabbing the man by the shoulders, he shoved him roughly against the side of the car. The injured man grunted at the rough treatment, attempting to push the raging father back. Phil tried to calm down, he really did, but the more he thought about Clint lying there unmoving, blood pouring from his head and the possibility that his kid might not wake up, caused a wave of terror to wash over the agent and he saw red. Removing his hands from the other man shoulders, he watched as the drunk staggered without the agent's grip keeping him in place. Then without a second thought Phil lashed out with a right hook, catching the guy's jaw forcefully, followed with a swift uppercut. Satisfied when the younger man cried out, collapsing in a heap on the ground. It didn't take long for the other adults to step in, pulling the emotional father away before he did something he'd regret.

Phil found he really wouldn't regret it.

It wasn't long after that the ambulance and police arrived, the small cul de sac bustling with activity as the first responders quickly took charge, moving people back to give themselves room to work on the injured teen. The paramedics conferred with the young nurse and she told them all she could about the teen's condition, meanwhile the officers put the man responsible in handcuffs and took statements. Coulson stood to the side with his arms wrapped around himself, desperate to keep it together. He found out during the questioning that the brunette's name was Melanie, he'd need to remember to thank her. Standing back he watched with a lump in his throat as Clint was lifted carefully onto the stretcher and strapped down to keep him immobile. Only when the movement jostled the teen's leg did he let out a whimper of pain. Phil was at his side in a flash, brown eyes frantically checked Clint over as the medics attempted to calm the teen. Coulson heard them speaking quietly to each other, words like concussion and broken bones filtered through his panicked head.

"Clint, I'm right here kid. You're going to be okay." Phil tried to keep his voice calm and soothing. The teen didn't need to know how freaked out his dad was. Gripping Barton's hand for support, he attempted a smile while inside he felt like his heart was being ripped apart.

Glazed blue eyes looked up at him and the agent could tell just by the blank stare that the kid had a concussion. It was the terror on the teen's face when he realised that he was strapped down which almost brought Phil to his knees. Squeezing Barton's hand, the agent willed him to calm down, to realise he wasn't in any danger. His dad was right there with him.

Within minutes they were in the back of the ambulance, the medic busy trying to insert an I.V, placing an oxygen mask over the teen's nose and mouth, explaining softly while she was doing it. Coulson thanked the young paramedic, feeling overwhelmed with all the equipment being attached to his boy, though the woman's calm voice slowly eased his discomfort. The agent had seen Clint hurt plenty of times, too many as far as he was concerned. Though he still felt terrified when he saw his boy lying in a hospital bed hooked up to god knows what. It was why he felt more comfortable dealing with Sam, the SHIELD medic and Clint's doctor. Sam always explained everything, why they needed certain machines, what they'd do to help the teen and for Phil not to panic. It felt like the longest journey of his life, sitting by Clint's head with the boy's hand held tightly in his own.


	2. Chapter 2

Authors Note: WOW! Huge thanks to everyone who has added this to your favourites, or following and those who reviewed - Lollypops101, DucksFan1510, Anise Nadiah, Qweb, Sandy-wmd, xxnuttynicxx, sammygirl1963, magicshadow1, kimbee and guest. You are all awesome. Cookies and virtual hugs to all!

Please note that I have no medical knowledge (never broken a bone) and that the details of Clint's injuries are with the help of Google search lol

Enjoy!

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Three hours had past, and now Phil sat cradling his head in his hands, wondering how his son was doing, how this had happened. Luck just didn't seem to be their thing. The double doors to the waiting room burst open and Coulson found himself sitting up straighter after seeing his boss, Sam and Molly hurrying towards him.

"What the hell happened?" Nick barked, his good eye flicking toward Phil then at the doors to the left leading to surgery. The director felt incredibly bad when he noticed the younger man paled and visibly flinched at his sharp tone. Speaking in a calmer voice, Fury repeated the question. "What happened, Phil?"

The normally stoic agent's face was a myriad of emotions; fear, anger, sadness and pain, all fought for control. A few tears leaked out, causing Phil to wipe them away angrily. He stared into his boss's eye with an intensity that almost had Nick taking a step back. The terror of not knowing what was happening was making it worse for the agent. Fury nodded to Sam to go find out what he could. The medic gave a grim nod and strode through the double doors to the surgery. The young medic was determined to come back with news; he hoped it was good news.

Molly slapped Nick's arm in annoyance, walking past to sit at the worried father's side. The director had the decency to look ashamed at his outburst, he hadn't meant to make things worse. He was just worried, they all were. Reaching out, Fury squeezed Phil's shoulder in an unusual show of comfort, passing on a measure of strength to his friend. Nick felt they spent far too many hours occupying hospital chairs where the kid was concerned. He'd need to look into something that would keep the teen from harm, however impossible he knew that would be. The boy was a trouble magnet. If he had to wrap Barton in bubble wrap, then that's exactly what he'd do. R and D just inherited a new project.

"Have you heard anything Phil?" Molly asked while squeezing the agent's hand, telling him without words that they were there for him.

Coulson returned the gesture, then he leaned backwards in the uncomfortable plastic chair letting his head fall against the wall with a soft thump. He closed his eyes and blew out a deep measured breath, willing the helplessness he was feeling to disappear. Once he felt a little more in control, Phil opened his eyes and glanced at Molly then Nick who towered over him.

Shaking his head in answer, the worried father suddenly shot up from the chair, running a hand through his short hair in a nervous fashion. He remembered saying to Clint after his fourteenth birthday that he found a grey hair and was blaming the kid for it. All the worry, the fear he felt because of the trouble his boy got into was going to be the death of him, or at the very least the cause of a full head of white hair by the time he reached forty.

Phil attempted to pull himself together enough to tell his boss and Molly what he'd heard spoken in the rush through the corridors on the way to surgery. The agent had already spoken to Nick, managing to pass on only the basics of what happened; accident, Clint hurt, and hospital before his voice cracked with the emotional pressure threatening to send the father to his knees in a heap of anguish. "All I know is that he has a concussion, and they think he might have a broken leg but were going to have to get x-rays to be sure. He was still pretty out of it when he came to before they moved him to the ambulance." Nobody said anything about the distinct tremor they heard from the usually calm and collected agent. Coulson fought to employ his calm agent demeanour and distance himself from the fact that this wasn't a mission, but his own kid. He failed miserably, the tremor when he spoke and the tears glistening in his eyes, told his friends that he was barely keeping it together.

Nick leaned against the wall, his arms folded across his chest and his good eye focused on the door in front of them, waiting for any word on how his godson was doing. Fury had to be strong for Phil, the other man needed an anchor to keep himself from sinking into a pit of despair, and even though Nick kept his face carefully blank, inside he was screaming at the heavens for being so unfair. How dare they put them in this position again? How many times was Phil going to be sitting in these uncomfortable plastic chairs? Deep down the director knew the answer because Clint was a kid that always put others first and would always be willing to put himself in dangerous situations to help someone. Just like today.

Molly would never be able to wrap her head around the amount of things that had happened to this kid in his young life. She wasn't sure if Clint was incredibly lucky that he always seemed to pull through or that he was just very unlucky that all this bad stuff kept happening to him. She wanted to walk through there and demand to know what was going on, if only to ease the suffering of the trembling father next to her. Molly knew what she was like if anything happened to her kids, so she understood what Phil was going through right now. She squeezed his hand again, giving him her support.

Phil smiled sadly and stared down at her hand clasping his. He knew they were just as worried as he was. The agent couldn't even begin to start reigning in his erratic emotions until he saw his boy and made sure he was okay. He just hoped Sam came back with news soon.

It was almost an hour later when the doors they sat staring at swung open and Sam marched out towards him. Coulson shot out of the chair towards the medic, his legs felt like they had turned to jelly at the serious expression he saw. Noticing the small smile spreading across the younger man's face Phil felt himself relax, ever so slightly.

"How is he?" Phil demanded, suddenly annoyed that Sam wasn't speaking faster.

The young medic stopped in front of Phil, placing his hands on the agent's shoulders. "He's going to be fine Phil. The doctor is on his way out, they're just getting Clint ready to move to the recovery ward." He paused, looking between the three worried faces. "Do you want to wait until the doctor arrives?"

The looks he received told him he shouldn't have bothered asking. He forged on. "Clint has a grade three concussion, they've already run a CT scan and ruled out any serious brain injury. This is good, but they will have to monitor him for the next twenty four to seventy two hours. Phil, you said he was a little dazed when he came around at first?"

Coulson nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat remembering the terrified look Clint had given him when the kid realised he was being held down. Phil knew how much his boy hated the feeling of being restrained, having his control taken away from him. He shook his head to dispel the images and stared at Sam expectantly, waiting for him to continue.

"Once they got him x-rayed they noticed he has a closed Tibial fracture. This happens when the bone hasn't broken the skin but there is a lot of bruising and swelling. He will have it put in a cast and it could take at least twelve weeks for it to heal properly but it will heal. He also has some bruised ribs." He watched as each of them absorbed the information, seeing the relief in their eyes that they knew Clint was going to be alright.

The doctor appeared minutes later, introducing himself as Doctor Finlay and took them through all the medical jargon that made Phil glad that Sam had just explained everything. They were then shown to his son's room where the Doctor informed them that they could stay for a few minutes as the visiting hours were officially over. The glare that Phil, Nick and Molly gave the doctor had him averting his gaze and telling them to take as long as they needed.

Fury followed after Doctor Finlay to tell him that as soon as it was possible, Clint would be getting transferred to a private medical facility for Sam to take over the teen's care. The director trusted the young medic with his life and more importantly, both he and Coulson trusted Sam with Clint's. That made the decision to move Barton an easy one, the kid would get the best care possible back at the base. Heading back to the room the director paused outside the door, watching with a smile as Phil had Clint's hand grasped in his own and was speaking softly to his son, telling him he was there and everything would be alright. Molly sat in the chair opposite, tears glistening in her eyes as she took in the multitude of wires Barton was hooked up to. He looked so small lying there, so vulnerable and young with dark bruises peeking out from under the crisp white bandages. Nick spotted the butterfly stitches on the side of the teen's head, and it wasn't hard to notice the pristine white cast on the kid's left leg.

What a way for Barton to celebrate his sixteenth birthday. Although Nick knew it could have been so much worse. He was pleased the kid would pull through this, and knew deep down that he'd probably come out stronger because of it. The teen had a way of beating the odds. It also helped that he had a loving family to look after him now.


	3. Chapter 3

Author Note: Once again a massive thank you to all that left a review for the last chapter - xxnuttynicxx, Lollypops101, magicshadow1, DucksFan1510, Anise Nadiah, sammygirl1963, AinsleyWright, Sandy-wmd and queenlmno.

You guys seriously brighten up my day!

Now we get to see how Clint's doing.

Enjoy!

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Five Days Later

Clint lay sprawled across the comfy sofa, propped up by pillows and his favourite blanket wrapped tightly around him. He couldn't believe it was only two days till his birthday and he would be spending it lounging about the house, injured. His dad promised they would do something special when he was able to, so at least he had something to look forward to. Laid up was not how he wanted to spend any birthday, let alone his sixteenth. The teen was glad Phil managed to get time off from work to care for him for the next couple of weeks, and then the agent would be back at SHIELD and when his leave was up, the older man had made plans for Clint's grandparents to stay for a week or so. It wasn't a surprise that Nick had agreed so easily for Coulson to take time off, his soft spot for the teen still plain for all to see.

Reaching across the short expanse to the coffee table, he grabbed his bag of chips and demolished the rest of the bag before throwing the scrunched up wrapper into the trash can a few feet from the couch. He grinned when it disappeared, it really didn't matter what he aimed at; he never missed.

Barton also came to the conclusion that he hated having a cast on his leg, not only because it meant he couldn't do anything, but because it itched like crazy. He was pleased about the purple. It had taken less time than he thought to sweet talk the nurse into changing the boring generic white cast into a purple one. He'd found over the past few months that if he used his puppy dog eyes, (as Molly called it) he tended to get whatever he wanted, especially with the ladies; something to do with having blonde hair, blue eyes and a smile that could melt butter. Clint wasn't entirely sure what that meant but he wasn't about to argue. Phil continuously shot him an exasperated look when he did this, though the older man never stopped him, but there was always a fondness in his brown gaze. The shade of purple was similar to the converse Phil had bought for him when they first met, just before the agent took him home for the first time. Clint remembered feeling so nervous but Coulson had eventually managed to win his trust, proving to the teen that he wasn't going to hurt him or abandon him as most people from his past had done.

The teenager had also noticed his dad was in full on mother hen mode. Barton was torn between hating the constant hovering and fussing, and loving the extra attention and care that was being lavished upon him. The older man could be a little over the top when he was worried. The agent had surprised Clint by agreeing to let him leave medical after only five days, even if Phil had only agreed this on the grounds that Barton wouldn't do anything strenuous and would listen to what he said. The youngster smiled remembering the stern look he'd received from his dad. He would do whatever Phil told him to if it meant leaving the infirmary.

Sighing deeply Clint gripped the corners of his blanket and pulled it around him, cocooning himself within its warmth. The fleece still smelled of his dad from the last time he used it. The smell of coffee, cologne and something distinctly Phil that always managed to comfort the teen, making him feel safe.

"Clint, you hungry?" Phil called from the kitchen. The agent grew concerned when he didn't receive an answer right away and sprinted into the living room. Sleepy blue eyes met warm brown and Coulson couldn't help but smile. The sight of his boy lying snuggled on the couch with his blanket wrapped around him, his hair messed up and a mischievous glint in his eye made Phil want to hug the kid and never let go. His nerves were still a little shaky at the moment, which was usually the case after almost losing the kid, something that happened far too many times as far as he was concerned.

Barton grinned weakly. "Yeah?"

"What do you fancy?"

Clint shrugged, smirking playfully at the frustrated face Phil was pulling. "Anything you want to make me."

Coulson glared at the teen, though there was no real heat in it, he was just happy the kid was being his usual sarcastic self. It was a sure sign that everything would be alright. "What about a stack of pancakes and syrup?"

"Hmmm yeah, that sounds good. Could I have bacon with mine?" he asked, his eyes pleading.

Phil nodded, heading back into the kitchen but paused when Barton called out again, "And some sausage?"

Coulson sighed affectionately; if Clint was thinking about his stomach then he knew the kid was going to be okay.

Phil returned within ten minutes with two plates, one in each hand and a carton of juice under his arm. He placed both plates on the table and crouched next to the couch after noticing the teen's eyes were closed and he was snoring quietly. The agent watched his son sleep for a few minutes before he felt his impenetrable mask begin to crack. He was suddenly overcome with emotion, his chest tightened painfully and he willed the lump forming in his throat to go away. Reaching out with his right hand, Phil carded his fingers gently through the teen's blonde hair. He needed the contact to keep himself from falling apart at the seams. The terror that had begun to blossom in his chest when he saw his son lying motionless on the road was threatening to explode to the surface. Consumed with grief Phil choked back a sob. He lowered his head on to the teen's shoulder, taking a moment to breathe in Clint's scent, watching the steady rise and fall of his boy's chest. He had to make his heart believe what his eyes already knew; Clint was alive, he was going to be alright.

The teen lay with his eyes closed, giving Phil the time he needed to pull himself together. Clint had a feeling the older man would be embarrassed if he caught him crying. The thought of his dad in tears had the youngster struggling with his own erratic emotions. When he felt a gentle hand squeeze his own he opened his eyes to find Phil looking down at him in concern.

"You okay kid?"

Barton frowned, wondering why his dad was asking if he was alright, then realised his cheeks were wet with his own silent tears. He nodded. "You okay?"

Phil sighed deeply, drawing in a shaky breath wondering how to answer the simple question. He was still shaken, his mind deciding to conjure up the image of the car hitting Clint every night while he slept. It was getting harder and harder to pretend everything was fine. The agent had already spoken to Nick about getting some more time off work. A couple of weeks weren't going to be enough, of that Phil was positive.

The agent decided to be honest, after all he was always trying to get the kid to open up to him. "I keep having nightmares," he admitted. Clint squeezed his hand, urging him to go on. "I hear the sound of the tires squealing, the sickening thud of metal connecting with flesh and bone, and then David screaming." Running a hand through his short hair, the older man tried to ignore the tremor in his voice. "I think that sound will haunt me for the rest of my life." Phil had been an agent for many years, he'd seen some horrific and truly disturbing acts of violence, yet nothing could have prepared him for witnessing the aftermath of that car accident. No amount of training could ever be enough to handle seeing his son lying unconscious on the ground with blood pouring from a head wound. Phil had barely been able to keep it together. The father in him wanted nothing more than to pound the young man responsible into the ground. It was a testament to his training that Coulson didn't. Although he came closer than he ever thought possible.

"I'm okay dad," Clint reminded him quietly.

"I know kid. Just promise me you won't put yourself in that kind of situation again? Please?"

Barton knew what his dad was asking and couldn't bring himself to make that promise, not if someone was left at risk of being injured. He shook his head sadly. "I can't promise not to help someone in danger dad, but I do promise to try not to get myself hurt in the process." He pleaded with Phil to understand. "Is that enough?"

"I guess it'll have to be." Coulson felt his emotions overwhelming him, fear, pride and love all washing over him like a wave. How could he ask something of Clint that he wouldn't be able to promise himself? Phil moved to sit on the edge of the coffee table, taking in the still pale features of his teenage son, the wince he tried to hide when he moved in a way that his injured ribs didn't agree with. It was safe to say the kid was still in a lot of pain but he was pretty good at hiding it, though not good enough to stop the agent from seeing the signs.

"C'mon kid, let's get some food in you. Then you can take some pain relief." Phil handed the plate of pancakes over with a smile. "Besides you're looking a little skinny."

Clint glowered playfully, lifting up his t-shirt to see if what Phil said was true. He purposefully ignored the bruising to his ribs and stared back up at the older man. "Liar, still a fine specimen. Look at these awesome abs dad."

Phil laughed, his first proper laugh since the accident. "Yeah, yeah. Maybe you should leave eating the pancakes then, might ruin your physique?"

"Nah, I've been eating the delicious goodness for how long now? They're the reason I have this awesome bod. No point in changing things now is there?" The teen gestured to his athletic frame with a smirk.

"I suppose not," Coulson tried unsuccessfully to hide his smirk behind a forkful of pancakes.

Once the plates were practically licked clean, Phil headed back into the kitchen to wash up. He kept an eye on Clint while he dried the dishes and stored them away in their proper place. The teen laid sprawled on the sofa, his purple cast propped on a mass of cushions, watching cartoons with another bag of chips next to him, and a can of soda on the table within easy reach. The older man couldn't believe the kid was about to turn sixteen. It seemed like only yesterday that he'd found the skinny boy hiding in his garden, scrounging for food. Now here they were four years later.

The agent wouldn't trade a second of their time together for the world. Clint was the best thing to ever happen to the older man, although at the time it hadn't seemed that way. Phil always thought he was doing more harm than good for the damaged boy with severe trust issues, the kid who believed that happiness was just something that would be snatched away if he let himself feel.

Here they were four years later and now every night before bed Clint would tell him he loved him. He was always smiling, laughing and had perfected the art of sarcasm. Coulson chose to blame Nick for that one. His son was one of the most selfless, caring, and funny teenagers he'd ever met. Phil had no doubt the kid would become a fine agent, and an even better man, especially if he had something to say about it.

Glancing over to the object of Phil's thoughts, he heard a soft snore and smiled fondly. The tendrils of terror which had wrapped around his very soul, consuming him had started to slowly fade away. He was still feeling overly protective but that was to be expected. His boy was going to be alright, it was just going to take some time to get him back to full fitness. Coulson had already witnessed the flash of panic in Clint's eyes when he was told how long he'd be recuperating and the amount of physio he'd have to endure. It didn't take long for the teen to be reminded that he wouldn't be facing this on his own; his dad, god father, Sam, Molly and his new family were there to help, every step of the way.

A stifled gasp had the agent moving towards the sofa immediately. Phil noticed the pinched expression and knew right away that Clint's headaches were still causing him pain. Brushing his fingers through the short blonde hair, he attempted to ease the teen's distress with the soft touch. He was right. Within seconds Barton had settled again, the frown smoothing out and his features relaxed. The father felt his heart swell with happiness when the teen leaned into his touch, the feeling just as strong as it had been the first time.

"Sleep Clint, I'll be right here if you need me." With that Phil settled himself on the chair opposite, picking up the discarded remote and began flicking through the channels. His finger paused when he saw his favourite show was about to start: _Supernanny_. Grabbing the unopened bag of chips, the agent settled himself in for some afternoon entertainment.


	4. Chapter 4

Authors Note: You guys are seriously awesome! I'm so glad you're all enjoying this. A huge thanks to all that reviewed the last chapter - Lollypops101, Qweb, DucksFan1510, xxnuttynicxx, queenlmno, Sandy-wmd, AinsleyWright, Anise Nadiah, kimbee (2nd & 3rd chapter ;)), sammygirl1963 and Kat Callan.

Also a quick note - I'm just waiting for my awesome beta to do some finishing touches to the next couple of chapters, so chapter 5 might not be posted until Friday or Saturday. Sorry...but it's not too long ;)

This chapter Phil is worried and proud, plus Clint gets a visitor!

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The first thing Clint was aware of when he woke up was something tickling his nose. Reaching his hand up he found it was the tag on his fleece blanket causing the discomfort. He pulled the cover off and stretched. He tried to hide the wince when his ribs protested loudly at the movement, not wanting to worry his dad any more than he already was. Every time Phil saw Clint in pain he got this terrified look, like the teen was going to disappear before his very eyes. It was then Barton heard his dad's voice carry through to the living room.

"I'm fine mom, Clint's going to be fine." There was a pause while he obviously listened to what the older woman had to say. "I will, don't worry. You're still coming over in a few weeks?"

Clint perked up at that. He'd forgot his grandparents were coming to stay for a week to look after him while Phil sorted some things at work. Grinning to himself the teen pushed himself into a seated position, reaching for his crutches his dad always made sure were never out of reach. Barton had decided early on that he hated crutches and would be happy if he never had to use them again, at least that was the case until he realised how fast he could move with them. Sometimes he'd lift both feet off the floor and balance on the two crutches, seeing how long he could last before his ribs reminded him not to push it too much. He made his way slowly to the back garden, the teen sliding the door open the rest of the way and hobbled outside. The sun was still splitting the sky, the brightness causing Barton to scrunch his eyes against the glare and move to the patio table and chairs.

Phil turned when he heard the familiar sound of crutches. Giving his boy a wide grin, the agent moved closer, resting his hand on Clint's shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze, silently asking if the teen was alright.

Clint nodded and motioned to the phone in the older man's hand. Phil chuckled, asking his mom to hang on a second then handed the cell over to the teen.

"Hi Gran," Clint greeted warmly.

"Clint! How are you sweetheart? Is Phil taking good care of you?" she asked, her voice a mixture of concern and happiness that the teen was alright.

"I'm alright, and of course he is, can't keep him away." Barton laughed." "It's like having a mom and a dad all rolled into one."

Marie chuckled, while Phil shot the kid a playful glare. The agent knew he was in what everyone referred to as his mother hen mode, yet he couldn't help it. He'd rather smother the kid with love and attention than not show he cared at all.

"We'll see you soon okay, and take care of yourself," she reminded him.

"I will Gran, see you and Grandpa in a few weeks."

"Love you, bye Clint."

"Love you too." Barton handed the cell back to Phil who repeated the endearment before hanging up.

The agent took in the still pale complexion of his teenage son and frowned. "You okay kid?" he asked, his eyes scanning the rest of his boy. The t-shirt Clint wore was hanging off him, his eyes still outlined by dark circles.

Clint sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before looking up into the worried brown gaze. He really didn't want to scare the older man but the headaches didn't seem to be getting any better, his appetite wasn't what it was, but he knew that it was common with the amount of pills he'd been on and with the tablets he was now taking. The teen had banged his head plenty of times, yet this time, he knew it was worse because although it had been a week since the accident, he was still getting that horrible throbbing from behind his eyes. "It's just the headaches dad, they're still pretty bad and every time I move while I'm sleeping my ribs hurt and I wake up. It's just annoying."

Phil felt his heart clench painfully inside his chest, fear that the doctor's had missed something and that Clint was going to pay the price. Crouching down in front of the blonde boy, the older man stared into those blue orbs with an intense look. "Do you want me to call Sam?"

For a second Clint was ready to say yes, though he fought against the automatic response and shook his head. "Nah, if it's still sore tomorrow then you can call him."

"Clint…."

"Please dad, let's just see if it's better tomorrow?"

Coulson hated the pleading tone the teen used because it always got to him and Clint knew that. He nodded, even though his eyes said he wasn't happy with this decision. "Alright, but on one condition, Clint. You will tell me tomorrow if it's still as bad. I know you don't want to go back to medical," Phil paused, squeezing the boy's hand tightly. "I can't take anything else happening to you kid."

Barton swallowed thickly, then nodded. "Okay dad."

They were disturbed by a soft knock on the front door. Phil stood from his crouched position and made his way to the door. Clint followed behind, albeit much slower, as he settled the crutches under his arm pits, making his way to the couch. When Phil pulled it open he was surprised to see young David standing there, shifting from one foot to the other nervously.

"Hello, David. You okay?" Phil asked the small boy. His brown gaze drifting down to the boy's knees where two large band aids covered what he assumed were pretty painful scrapes, especially if the bruises covering the kid's skinny legs were anything to go by.

"I uh…..I just wanted to see if Clint was alright, Mr Coulson, is he?" his squeaky voice wobbling nervously as he stood before the older man. The agent noticed that the boy kept looking over his shoulder. It was only then Phil saw David's mom at the end of the driveway. She gave Phil a smile and a wave, then motioned David to go ahead.

"Sure, you want to come in for a minute?"

David looked like he wanted nothing more than to run back to his mom, yet the small boy straightened his shoulders and nodded, gripping a small box wrapped in purple wrapping paper. He followed Phil inside, stopping when he spotted Clint lying on the couch with a blanket covering up to his waist and the cast peeking out from where the teen had it propped on a few cushions.

Coulson thought the youngster looked ready to burst into tears. Giving David's shoulder a comforting squeeze, Phil moved to sit on the other sofa.

"Hi David. You okay?" Clint asked, hoping the younger boy didn't start crying, there was enough of that going on the past few days.

David nodded, his young eyes taking in the numerous bruises still covering the older boy's arms. "I just…..I wanted to see if you were okay. My mom said it was nearly your b-birthday and now you won't get to do anything because of m-me."

Barton's eyebrows rose almost comically. Was this kid seriously blaming himself for Clint not getting to do anything on his birthday? Sure it sucked but it was better than the alternative, he figured he should share that with the smaller boy.

"I don't blame you David, I only blame the guy that nearly knocked you down. I'd rather be lying here with a broken leg than your mom losing you kid. Besides, my dad has promised to take me somewhere cool when I'm better." Clint was sure David was going to break down right then, instead he launched himself forward, wrapping his skinny arms around his saviour. Barton saw Phil ready to spring into action when Clint winced. The teen shook his head telling the older man it was fine.

"You're my hero Clint," whispered the smaller boy. Pulling back David thrust the small present towards the teen. "It's just something small, I hope you like it."

The young archer smiled warmly. "I'm sure I will. Thanks David."

David gave a shy grin then followed Phil to the door, the agent watched as the kid ran to the end of the road and took his mom's hand before crossing the road together.

Closing the door Phil turned to the teen who was staring at the small gift in his hand with a surprised expression. Clint raised an eyebrow at the older man, clearly trying to understand what had just happened.

"You okay?"

Barton placed the gift on the coffee table, his brow furrowed wondering what the younger boy had gotten him. Clint felt a surge of excitement flow through him when he realised it was his birthday tomorrow. He was starting to hate this rule about waiting till your party before opening presents, especially ones that arrived early. He took a moment to gather his jumbled thoughts before answering the older man who was waiting patiently for a response. He couldn't believe David thought he would blame him for being injured. In truth, Clint hadn't even given it a second thought.

"He called me his hero, dad." The archer flicked his gaze to the older man, not surprised in the least to see his lips quirk upwards. Phil was always telling him he was brave, especially after surviving for so long on his own.

"Of course he did, you saved his life Clint," Phil replied, love and pride displayed openly on his usually blank features.

"I guess," the teen mumbled, more to himself.

Coulson once again walked over to the sofa and crouched in front of the injured boy. Reaching out he gently cupped the kid's cheek, loving the feeling that rushed through him when Clint leaned into the touch. It didn't matter how many times he did it, Phil's heart filled with happiness. This was his kid and he was damned proud.

Phil was about to ask if he wanted to do something, watch a movie or even play a game when he noticed Clint squinting again, his brow furrowed in pain. Coulson scooped up the painkillers and the can of soda, holding them out. His expression clearly stating he wouldn't be taking no for an answer.

Clint sighed deeply, hating the need for the medication. It frustrated him because he slept most of the time after taking them.

"Take these and get some rest kid. The more you rest the better you're going to feel."

"I know." Clint swallowed the pills with a gulp, nodding his thanks when Phil took the can placing it on the table.

Phil pulled the blanket over the teen, tucking him in and taking a moment to comb his finger through Clint's short hair. Barton's eyes were already sliding closed when Coulson leaned down and gave his boy a kiss on the head.

Phil paused on his way back to the kitchen when he heard the quiet murmur, "You're my hero dad."

Coulson had a spring in his step as he headed back into the kitchen, a goofy smile plastered on his face. Only his boy could cause that reaction in him and it was one that would never get old.


	5. Chapter 5

Authors Note: Thanks to all those who have added this to your favourites, following and those who reviewed last chapter - Qweb, AinsleyWright, xxnittynicxx, Lollypops101, DucksFan1510, sammygirl1963, Sandy-wmd, chills10124, cares113, VioletBrock, kimbee and DBhawkguy30.

I'm sorry that I didn't get to post anything on Fri/Sat, something happened with . Devin was waiting for me to send something while I was waiting for something back lol...anyway, it's sorted now and I will post another tonight if I can and the last chapter on Monday.

Enjoy!

* * *

Clint managed to sleep right through to the early hours of the morning. A quick glance at his alarm clock told him it was almost seven AM. The teen also noticed the date and grinned. It was his birthday today. Easing himself slowly out of his bed he reached for his crutches, positioning them underneath his armpits before making his way to the bathroom. It was only when he was washing his hands, splashing the cold water on his face, that he realised that his head didn't feel as bad and he smiled in relief. He really didn't want to go back to medical. It wasn't that he didn't want to see Sam or anything and he knew the medic wouldn't take it personally, but Clint hated hospitals. The smell, the bright white walls and the feeling of being confined still scared the teen. He wasn't sure if that would ever change.

After drying his hands, he made his way slowly towards Phil's room. He didn't want to make too much noise if the agent was sleeping; Barton knew his dad hadn't been sleeping well since the accident and had tried to hide that fact but Clint wasn't stupid. At least the older man had admitted to him about the nightmares. It was a start at least. Pushing the door open a crack, Clint noticed Phil's head twisting from side to side in a desperate attempt to escape some invisible force. It was obvious his dad was in the throes of another nightmare and the teen wondered whether he should leave or try to wake him. When he heard a gasp and his name whispered like a plea, Barton pushed the door open and moved closer.

He stopped a few feet from the bed, knowing better than to wake the agent from a nightmare. There had only been one other time Clint had tried to wake his dad with a touch and the older man had launched himself from the bed with his gun aimed unwaveringly at the teens still form. Phil decided it best to keep his gun locked away in the safe downstairs since that day; it wasn't worth the risk of injuring his son.

"Dad?" Clint called, watching as the older man stilled, head turning towards the sound of the teen's voice. "Come on dad, wake up. It's just a dream."

Within seconds Phil bolted upright, his eyes snapping open and chest heaving. It took a moment to gather himself, his bleary eyes taking in his surroundings. He caught sight of the teen standing to the side of his bed and blew out a deep breath.

"Sorry kid." Phil reached his hand out toward the blonde boy. "Come here."

Barton propped the crutches against the dresser and hobbled the couple of steps toward the bed, taking the older man's hand. Phil pulled Clint into a warm embrace, needing to simply hold the teen and remind himself that it was just a nightmare and that Barton was alive and breathing on his own. The dream rated high on Phil's most terrifying to date; he'd been left to decide whether to keep Clint on life support or pull the plug and let the teen be at peace. Coulson remembered Sam telling him the news then collapsing to his knees with a cry of agonising distress. The agent wasn't sure if this rated as his most horrifying nightmare or if it was the one he had when Clint had been shot by Karl and he'd dreamt of the kid's funeral and his failure to protect him. Phil guessed this one may have been worse because he was left to choose the kids fate. He never wanted to make that choice; ever.

"I love you kid."

Clint smiled against Phil's shoulder. "Love you too dad." He gave a quick final squeeze and pulled back. "You okay?"

"I am now," replied the older man truthfully. He eyed the teen thoughtfully, his eyebrow raised in question. "How are you feeling today?"

"I'm good. Slept right through."

Phil nodded, not seeing any of the usual signs that the kid was lying. "Good." Planting a kiss on the blonde's hair he smiled as Clint whined. "Da-ad!"

"Happy birthday Clint."

Barton grinned, eyeing the large box Phil pulled out of his cupboard. "Wow! How did you manage to keep this hidden from me?"

"I have my ways, kid."

Pulling the large present towards him, the teen ripped into the paper with determination. When the wrapping paper was left littering the floor, Clint gazed upon his present with a frown.

Phil couldn't help but laugh.

The sixteen year old glared at him before turning back to his present. Continuing to read the description on the box, he felt the corners of his mouth quirk upwards in delight. It was an old retro arcade game, one Clint had been eyeing up for ages. Ever since his dad had told him about the types of games he got to play when he was Barton's age, it had piqued the teen's interest. Phil had told him that even though there wasn't much to the games, graphics weren't that great and you had to use a joystick to control the characters, the games were classics and highly addictive.

"I know it's not exactly what you wanted, but with everything that's happened we can't exactly get you driving just yet. I do promise however that as soon as you're able, I will take you out for some lessons." Phil grinned at the dumbfounded expression on the teen's face.

Clint reached over and pulled Phil into a massive hug. "I love it dad, and it'll keep me going until I'm able to do stuff." Pulling back the blonde smirked at the older man. "Are you really going to take me out for lessons? You?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Coulson asked, his eyebrow raised in question. Sliding off the bed he walked to the dresser and started pulling out his comfortable jeans and a light grey t-shirt.

"I've seen the way you drive. Did Nick teach you to drive?" Folding his arms across his chest, the teen gave the older man a knowing smirk. He'd been in the car with Nick a few times now, and all he could say was he was extremely glad that the techs hadn't bowed to the Director's wishes of adding Nitro. The man certainly didn't need it. Phil tended to drive more carefully with Clint in the car, but even he seemed to be addicted to fast cars and winding roads. Barton wanted to be just like them.

Phil paused as he pulled on his jeans. "Yes he did. The director is a very good driver I'll have you know."

Barton laughed. "Yeah he is, especially in hostile situations."

Coulson felt his lips quirk, yet managed to hide it with a fake cough. "Are you seriously arguing about getting shown how to drive like myself or Nick?"

"Nope just wanted to make sure I get to do everything you did." Barton explained.

The older man finished pulling the t-shirt over his head and glared at the teen. How he just got himself played into showing the kid how to drive like an agent, he'd never know. Clint was sometimes far too smart, or maybe it was sneaky, for his own good.

"Yeah well, we'll have to make sure you pass first before you get to look at cars."

Clint's eyes widened. "Seriously? You're going to get me a car?"

Phil made his way over to the teen's side, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. "Of course I would, but only if you pass." Coulson considered giving Clint a shot of his most prized possession: the gleaming red beauty he kept in the garage within SHIELD headquarters. Yet even though he loved his son more than anything, he wasn't sure if letting him drive Lola would be the best idea when he was only getting started. Perhaps in a few years time. Nodding to himself the agent let out a breath he didn't realise he was holding.

Barton flopped down on the bed with a wide beaming smile. He couldn't believe Phil would buy him a car, at the very least he thought he would have to earn it. Maybe get a part time job or something. Once again he realised how lucky he was to have the older man in his life. "Thanks dad."

"You're welcome Clint." Phil grasped the teen's hand and pulled him upright. "What you want for breakfast birthday boy?"

"Cake."

The older man chuckled. "I asked for that didn't I?"

"Yup." Clint's eyes twinkled mischievously as he was helped up off the bed. Phil handed over the crutches and headed for the door.

"Come on then, let's see what we have."


	6. Chapter 6

Authors Note: As promised another chapter in one day! Thanks to all that reviewed - xxnuttynicxx, DBhawkguy30, Anise Nadiah, Qweb, Sandy-wmd, 221bdeductions, Lollypops101, AinsleyWright and DucksFan1510.

One more to go!

Enjoy!

* * *

Together they made their way downstairs, Coulson taking the lead just in case the teen needed him. He was more than aware that Clint could make it down the stairs himself, yet he felt the overwhelming need to be there to catch the kid if something happened.

It took Clint longer than he was used to, to reach the bottom step but every time he did he felt like he'd accomplished something great. A flicker of a smile lit up his features when he spotted more presents on the table in the living room.

"What's all this?" Barton asked, hobbling forward already scanning the tags for names. He spotted one at the end with Nick's name on it.

"Just some presents from your family." Phil loved the look of surprise on the teen's face. It was nice to know he could still do that. "I know your Gran and Grandpa are coming over soon but they still wanted you to have something to open on your birthday."

Shuffling the last few steps to the sofa, Clint flopped down with a sigh and pulled the nearest present into his hands. This one was from Molly. He opened the gift in record time, smiling when he saw she'd gotten him the game he'd been going on about for the past few weeks, or maybe it was months. _Assassin's Creed: Black Flag_. He would thank her for that later. Next he lifted the box with Nick's name on it. He couldn't contain the snort of amusement when he saw the teddy bear from _Build a Bear Workshop_, wearing a black trench coat, eye patch, complete with gun holster attached. It was awesome.

Phil laughed when he saw the gift, knowing Nick had been very secretive about the present. When he read the tag attached he realised why, it read, this stays between us Barton, capiche?

Clint read the message and grinned. Fury really was a giant teddy bear. Only to him though. He made fast work of the other presents, leaving a pile of wrapping paper on the floor. He received a whole selection of new clothes from his aunts and uncles, jeans: t-shirts with funny slogans and shorts. His gran and grandpa had gotten him the new wireless headset for his Xbox, plus a couple of games. The twins, Brian and Lewis, got him a book titled 1001 Comics You Must Read before You Die. Both Rachel and Fiona chose something that would more than likely annoy Phil to no end: drumstick pencils. He heard his dad groan when he spotted them. They also got him a new wallet with an arrow on the front. There were only three presents left. One from Tommy, the small box from David his neighbour and the other he lifted up to check and smiled when he saw it was from Sam. Deciding to open that first, he threw the paper into the bag Phil was using to gather up the mess. Clint laughed when he saw the handy first aid kit, and a sling shot. The medic was well aware that the teen couldn't fire his bow just yet and it was killing him. At least this would keep him entertained for some time. After all it was how he started off, the small sling shot his friend Calvin Muldoon from the orphanage had given him when he was only eight years old had been one of his most cherished gifts until it was taken off him by one of the bigger boys and snapped in two.

"You okay kid?" Phil asked, wondering where the kid had zoned off to.

Clint nodded, giving the older man a small, sad smile. "Yeah I was just remembering the first one I got of these, it was from a boy in the orphanage; his name was Calvin. We were inseparable, known as the trouble makers. He was a good kid."

Phil waited for a moment, wondering if Clint was going to continue. When it seemed he wasn't the older man asked, "_Was_ a good kid?"

Barton shrugged. He looked away from Phil giving himself time to compose himself. "He got a new placement not long before I left. It was part of the reason I had to get away; there was nothing left for me there."

Coulson had the sinking feeling something bad had happened as he took in the subtle tremors running through Clint's hands. "Did you look him up after you left?" he asked quietly.

Clint wiped a stray tear from his cheek and turned to the older man with a pained expression. Shaking his head the teen replied, "Didn't have to. After I ran away I heard on the news that his new dad beat him, he was taken to hospital but never woke up." Barton would never forget that day as he slinked down the sidewalk, hands stuffed deep in the pockets of his oversized jacket. He'd kept his head down, not wanting to draw attention to the fact he hadn't washed or eaten anything in days. A flash of a familiar image greeted him through the window of an electronics store and Clint found himself staring at the television in horror as the reporter described the violent attack. Barton had bolted for the nearest alley, falling to his knees and vomiting bile because there wasn't anything in his stomach to bring up. The youngster had collapsed clumsily against the wall, tears blurring his vision and hands clenched tightly into fists. Clint vowed from that day he wouldn't depend on anyone, wouldn't trust anyone. He was better off on his own. There was no way he was going to end up like Calvin.

Phil pulled the blonde close, feeling his own eyes sting with tears. No wonder Barton never trusted anyone; he wasn't given any reason to, at least not until he met the agent. "I'm so sorry kid." He squeezed just that little bit tighter needing to let Clint know he was there for him.

"It was a long time ago. I try not to think too much about it, cause then I think that it could've been me. Or that I should've asked him to run away with me. Maybe then he'd still be alive." Guilt still ate at the teen after all this time. Calvin had been a good friend, he didn't deserve what happened to him, though Clint realised now that there were a lot of things that he didn't deserve. Phil had shown him that over the past four years.

"Sorry." Clint wiped the tears away and leaned into his dad's embrace.

"You've nothing to be sorry for Clint, it's okay to get upset about things you know. Especially something like that." Phil kissed the teen's head, then playfully ruffled his hair making Barton groan. The older man smiled as Clint proceeded to fix his hair.

"You okay?" Phil questioned carefully.

"Yeah." Barton sighed softly, stroking the handle of the slingshot with his thumb. It felt slightly smoother than the one Calvin had gave him, but then again he was pretty sure the younger boy had made the original from scratch. He felt Phil squeeze his arm, asking without words if he was sure he was alright.

Clint nodded.

"You've got two left, then one more from me." Phil stated vaguely, needing to change the subject back to something a little more cheerful. He chuckled at the arched eyebrow he received and smiled when Clint shot him a look filled with gratitude.

Barton placed the slingshot on the table and pulled Tommy's gift on to his lap. The paper was neat and precise making Clint chuckle. It was pretty obvious that the nine year old had gotten his mom to help wrap the gift.

Clint almost felt bad for ruining the hard work that his Aunt Trisha had put into wrapping the present, though that feeling vanished when he saw what it was. A warm feeling spread through the teen as his eyes scanned every inch of the hand carved wooden box with the word Memories etched into the wood. Tommy had already hinted at making something for Clint for his birthday so he was pleasantly surprised. Trailing his fingers over the smooth edges, Barton admired the effort that went in to making his gift. He opened the lid. Inside was a much smaller box nestled between a handful of pictures of the two boys together. With adept fingers, he opened the second box to discover a stone arrowhead. It was one of Tommy's; he recognised it from the younger boy's growing collection. His little cousin wanted Clint to have his own arrow head pendant to replace the one Clint gave Tommy after they first met. The younger boy's new obsession had started after meeting his older cousin, and Clint had seen how protective Tommy was with them so the fact he was giving one to him, meant the world to the young archer.

"What did he give you?" Phil asked, trying to see what the teen held in his hand. When Clint showed him the arrow head the older man's eyebrow raised in surprise. Tommy was very protective of his collection, barely let anyone see them let alone touch them. The younger boy spent ages collecting rare and unusual arrow heads, with help from his mom and usually Clint. "Very nice."

Barton held the stone pendant like it was the most precious thing in the world. He glanced up at Phil with glistening blue eyes though Coulson was sure it was nothing to do with being sad this time.

"I need to get a chain or something." Barton responded, clasping the arrow head in his right hand, unwilling to let it go.

"Okay, we can go out once you've finished if you like." The older man waited patiently for the young archer to meet his gaze. Once their eyes met Phil smiled. "You ready for the last two?"

Nodding the teen lifted the small box left by David, his young neighbour. Clint wasn't entirely sure what to expect when he opened the small box but it certainly wasn't a collection of trading cards. Young eyes widened in shock, the cards looked like they were in near mint condition. Barton tipped the box upside down emptying the contents into his waiting hand. A small piece of paper fluttered to the floor, landing under the sofa. Phil crouched down to pick it up to save Clint from struggling awkwardly to retrieve it. When he saw the scrawled handwriting the older man guessed it was a note from David. The words he managed to make out made his heart swell inside his chest. Needing to show Clint what the younger boy had to say, Phil passed the piece of paper to the teen who was still in the process of flicking through the numerous amounts of cards now within his procession.

"Clint…..this is for you."

Barton looked away from his gift and took the note, wondering why Phil's voice had cracked with emotion. Clint frowned as he read the scribbled words, finding himself re-reading it to make sure he hadn't misread. Swallowing the lump in his throat, the teen read the words out loud.

"_Hi Clint,_

_I'm sorry I didn't get you something much cooler because you really deserve it. You saved my life! I wasn't sure what to get for someone who got hurt risking their life for me. My mom said it doesn't matter what it is as long as it came from my heart. So here is my collection of super hero trading cards, they might not be worth much but they mean a lot to me and now I want you to have them. I love the idea of heroes and super powers, but the day you saved me I learned I didn't need cards to show me what a hero was, I have one living next door._

_You're my hero Clint, and I hope you feel better soon._

_David._

Barton wiped his eyes with a sniffle. Phil grasped his hand lightly and squeezed, his entire being radiating with love, affection and above all, pride.

"You okay kid?"

It took a moment for Clint to compose himself. He wasn't used to this kind of attention, he didn't save David from the drunk driver for recognition; he did it because it was the right thing to do.

"Not everyone would have done what you did though Clint." Barton's blue gaze snapped up to meet Phil's warm brown. It was as if the older man had read his mind.

"I'm not a mind reader kid, just know you too well." Phil laughed lightly, squeezing the teen's shoulder affectionately.

"I didn't do it to be labelled a hero dad." Clint blushed as he said the word _hero_. "I did it because it was the right thing to do. That car was heading straight for David, he would've been killed."

"So could you." The agent pointed out, a pained expression colouring his features. It still hurt him that Clint could so easily jump in front of a moving car and almost get himself killed; it would have left a gaping hole of emptiness where the older man's heart used to be.

"I didn't mean to hurt you dad." This time it was Phil's eyes that snapped up to meet those piercing blue eyes, so full of love, sincerity and the tiniest hint of mischief. "And no I didn't read your mind either, I just know you."

Coulson pulled the teen into a warm embrace, holding him tightly as though afraid he might disappear. "I love you kid."

"Love you too."

Pulling away, the older man reached into his pocket and took out a white envelope, handing it over to the frowning teenager. "You're last one." He smiled and watched as Clint stared at the envelope like it was a ticking time bomb ready to explode. "Go on kid, open it."

Barton did as he was told, ripping the top open and pulling out a letter. It only took him a moment to read what it said before he was vaulting off the sofa, hopping around on one foot while simultaneously pulling Phil upright and hugging him. If his injuries caused him any discomfort while the teen jumped about he didn't show it.

"We're going to Disney World?" he cried, excitement and happiness radiating off the sixteen year old in waves. Phil was sure he was going to be bowled over by it, or at the very least topple over with Clint's full weight leaning into him. Damn the kid was getting big.

"We'll have to wait until Sam says you're fit enough. It could still be a few weeks Clint, maybe even a month." Phil didn't want to be the bearer of bad news but he didn't want the kid to be in any pain and wanted him to be able to do things at the park.

"I don't care when we go dad….we're going to Disney World!" Clint's smile was infectious and Phil found himself unable to keep the beaming grin from his face.

"Yeah, we are."

Barton had told the older man a while back that the one place he'd always wanted to go was Orlando, Florida. The kid was an adrenalin junkie and the roller coasters there were the perfect way to quench his desire for thrills and adventure. Phil suddenly found himself able to breathe and watched bemused as Clint grabbed his crutches and headed for the stairs.

"Where are you going?" Phil asked.

"I need to pack."

Coulson was sure he'd misheard him. "What?"

"Well you said when Sam says I'm fit enough we can go right? So that could be a week or two, maybe three. I need plenty of time to pack my stuff."

"Clint…"

"Don't worry dad, I'll make sure I'm ready to go by then." With that he disappeared toward his room leaving a very confused and amused agent staring after him.


	7. Epilogue

Authors Note: Seriously you guys are all awesome! A massive thanks to those who reviewed last chapter - queenlmno, Sandy-wmd, DucksFan1510, sammygirl1963, Lollypops101, xxnuttynicxx, kimbee and DBhawkguy30.

This is the final chapter of Clint's 16th...phew! This one took a lot longer than I'd hoped to get written out and posted, but you guys make it seriously worth the effort. I'm so glad you have enjoyed this and I will leave a wee note at the bottom about some of the one shots that will come from this!

Thanks again!

Enjoy!

* * *

Phil found himself tossing and turning in bed until he finally lay flat on his back staring up at the ceiling of the darkened room. A quick glance at his clock told him it was still early, too early to be awake but the agent's sixth sense was screaming at him to get up. Sliding out of the comfortable, warm bed, Coulson picked up his sweat pants pulling them up, frowning when he realised he needed to adjust the waistband as they were getting too big. Phil came to the conclusion that maybe he wasn't eating very well at the moment either and he'd been the one on the teen's case. Grabbing a t-shirt he yanked it over his head before making a beeline for Clint's room. Something was telling him as he reached the kid's room that he wasn't going to be there. He pushed the door open slightly, the street light illuminating the room enough to let him see that Barton wasn't there, only an untidy bed with covers pushed down to the bottom greeted the older man. Panic bubbled up inside the agent but he pushed it away as he headed down the stairs three at a time, knowing from past experience that when Clint was unable to sleep he'd usually fire his bow in the back garden to relax, although with the injuries the kid had he shouldn't be anywhere near his bow. A light breeze tickled the hairs on the back of his neck and he sighed gratefully when he spotted Clint sitting on the back step. Walking slowly toward the door, the agent slid it open the rest of the way and stepped outside.

Barton sat stiffly, his shoulders hunched forward and it was only when Phil stepped closer he saw the slingshot gripped tightly in the teen's hand. He should've known the kid would have a nightmare about his friend. Was it too much to ask that his boy could get one decent night's sleep, especially the day after his birthday? They'd ordered food the previous night, sitting watching a few movies, the blonde's burst of energy dwindled drastically after spending two hours packing his bag. It was roughly Eight PM when Coulson carried Clint up to his room, the teen's excitement and medication making for an exhausted young archer.

Phil didn't say anything as he sat down next to the boy. He was pleased the teenager had been smart enough to put on his hoodie; it was getting chilly outside. Gently nudging his shoulder against Clint's, the older man gave a sad smile when glistening blue eyes finally met his gaze.

"You alright?" the agent felt he'd had to ask that question too many times over the past week.

A half shrug was his answer, the blonde turning his head to stare out into the darkness.

Phil sighed, reaching his left hand up he gripped the back of Clint's neck and gave a gentle but firm squeeze, letting the boy know his dad was here if he needed to talk.

Barton leaned into the older man, his head falling on to Phil's shoulder while he struggled to find the right words to say. He had dreamed of Calvin, but it wasn't a bad dream, instead he had been talking to the younger boy and telling him of his life with Phil. By the end Calvin had given him that toothy grin and hugged his friend before bidding him goodbye. Clint had awoken to silent tears streaming down his cheeks and soaking his pillow. It was the first time in a long time that he hadn't had a nightmare, filled with pain and fear and anguish. He felt whole for the first time in a long while and was still struggling to work out what that meant. Pulling himself away from the older man's warmth, Barton placed the slingshot on the ground between himself and Phil. He turned to his other side and lifted the box of trading cards. Flicking quickly through the trading cards, it didn't take long to find the one he was looking for.

Phil was caught off guard when Clint started speaking, the teen's voice barely above a whisper.

"You were my hero from the first moment we met, I just didn't realise it until later. You took me in and cared for me, built my trust and always put my needs before your own." Clint paused when he heard Phil's sharp intake of breath, not daring to look at the older man for fear that he'd be unable to finish what he had to say. "You're one of the kindest, patient, funny, kick ass guys I know, and even though it's my birthday I want to give you something."

Phil opened his mouth to interrupt when Clint raised a hand to stop him. "Let me finish." The teen finally turned to face the older man with the brightest smile he'd ever seen lighting up his youthful features. The agent clamped his mouth shut and stared wide eyed at the youngster. "You're a hero every time you take down the bad guys and I'm so proud that you're my dad. I also know your hero, the man you look up to would be proud too." With that Barton handed Phil the card he'd kept firmly in his grasp, letting the older man see what he was talking about.

A near mint condition Captain America trading card stared back at him and Coulson felt a prickling of tears sting his eyes. He held the card in both hands, staring almost reverently at the image of his childhood hero. Trailing his fingers over the image as if afraid it might disappear, Phil suddenly let out a disbelieving laugh. This kid was a constant surprise.

"You do realise this is your present?" he asked.

Clint chuckled softly, nodding as he leaned his head against Phil's shoulder again. "Call it an early birthday gift."

"My birthday is three months away."

"Yup."

"So you're not getting me anything else?" Phil asked in a whiney voice, though his eyes were filled with mischief.

Clint grinned, reaching for the card. "I can take it back if you like."

"No, it's okay." The older man laughed, wrapping his arm around the teen and pulled him in close, both of them staring out into the night. "Thank you Clint."

"You're welcome dad. Now you're gonna have to think of something to beat that next year."

Phil kissed the top of the blonde's head, feeling a warmth spread through him even as the cool night air brushed against his exposed skin, leaving goose bumps in its wake. "I'm sure I'll think of something."

Only the quiet chirps of the night crickets disturbed the silence that had settled between them.

Clint lifted his head to look up at the older man, although there wasn't much of a difference in height these days. "Do you think you'll ever get to meet him?"

"Who?"

"Captain America," Barton explained. "Molly told me people were still looking for him, trying to narrow down the area where he crashed? Do you think he could still be alive?" Barton turned to the older man with a serious expression. "He is _the_ super soldier after all."

Phil nodded. "They are looking, but whether or not they'll actually find him is something I might not live to see."

The teen's face paled drastically and the agent back-pedalled needing to explain what he meant. "I just meant it might be a long way away, if they ever do find him. It could be when _you're_ an old man." Coulson wasn't sure what he'd do if they ever found the Captain. Probably make a complete fool of himself but he wouldn't care. He figured it was allowed when you came face to face with your hero.

The young archer smiled, imagining just how the older man would react if faced with his super hero. More than likely Phil would have a fan girl moment. Clint made a silent promise to himself that if they ever did find Steve Rogers and the man had survived that he'd be present at their first meeting. Someone had to take pictures.

The agent and sixteen year old spent the next hour staring up at the night sky, wondering just what the next year would bring for them both.

The End.

* * *

Lists of stories I'm currently working on or planning to -

I've been asked to write about Clint's grandparents coming to look after him. Not sure when I'll get this done but I will add to my list.

You Can Count on Me - Clint and Phil visit Trisha and Tommy when the younger boy isn't acting like himself.

Cuddly As A Bear - Nick goes to Build a Bear Workshop to get Clint's bear made ;)

Was thinking about writing Clint and Phil's trip to Disney world, it might not be a one shot though lol

And finally Clint's seventeenth... the teenager get a shot of the new parkour course, showing off to the newest agents why a teenager is allowed to roam the SHIELD base.

weemcg


End file.
